Love Me Tender
by AlucardLovesSteakCakes
Summary: Saruhiko was found dead a week after the Red King's death, lying over that same King's grave with veins full of poison and a still heart full of secrets. This is the story you weren't told, this is a story full of happiness.
1. Prologue

So here we go, starting a new project in the best fandom evar! :D Anyways, here' the prologue no one waited for :)

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The body was found by the groundskeeper on an early Thursday morning. It had snowed during the night and so a thin blanket of snow had covered the body by the time it was found. Once the cold powder had been brushed away by the frightened old man, it was easy to tell that the boy was dead. Blue lips and a pale face, lips drawn into a serene smiles and limbs tucked tight gone stiff with rigamortis. He was dressed in the blatant uniform of Scepter4, so that's who the man called after he phoned for an ambulance. As he waited for the secretary to pick up, he marveled at how tightly the boy had held the black jacket against his chest. It was a nice jacket, not inexpensive in the least, with a thick fur trim and even though it was sprinkled in dusted off snow it looked warm.

He wondered, for a moment, if the jacket had belonged to the former Red King who was the owner of the grave the boy was laying on. He had been buried nearly four days before, and the tombstone was a pearl white in comparison to the gray withered stone of the other grave markers. For a King it was a simple grave, the slogan _no blood, no bone, no ash, _imprinted in the fine marble, but other than that it was a grave among the common, no fence or special bordering. The flowers that had been laid out for the deceased had long since withered in the snow and been removed.

He wondered why a Blue would die at the feet of a Red's grave.

"Hello this is Scepter4's emergency line, my name is Hoska Senji, how may I help you?"

"Ah-uh yes, I'm Honakawa Daiki, I'm the groundskeeper for the Eastern Shizume Cemetery? I have, uh, some bad news..."

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...:P


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: uhh...not mine?

Next chapter up at **20 reviews**

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_**3 years ago**_

Mikoto Suoh knew it didn't look like it, but he had a soft side to his personality. It came out around Anna, the young eight year old girl he had 'adopted' only months before from her tragic and horrific life, but it came out mostly around those he became intimate with. Namely with his lovers.

Now, he had never been fond of one night stands, always found them frankly rude and rather disgusting, so when he went for a relationship he tried to make them last. Of course, his reputation as a fearsome gangster seemed to come with the credentials that he had to be a soulless bastard who slept around whenever and with whomever he pleased. However that was not the case, and Mikoto had always pissed on rules and reputation. He did what he wanted to do, and sleeping around like a male whore just wasn't one of them.

Gathering a group of random damaged individuals and forming the strongest Clan in Shizume also hadn't been one of them, but things changed and with the influence of a certain blonde haired middle schooler he found a heart for broken things. Calling them broken would be rather pushing it, but it was the only thing he could think of when he looked at the people who surrounded him. Or perhaps damaged was the best word for them after all?

There was first and foremost Tatara Totsuka, his chain to sanity and blanket of comfort. The boy was simple an enigma to everyone, but to him he was able to see through the boy's facade of carefree happiness and jovial manner. The truth was that Tatara was a cold person, he was a person who feigned emotion because in reality he felt none. Born with part of his brain damaged, which part Mikoto wasn't sure because he'd never gone to any of his science classes, he was unable to feel. So he mimicked what he thought was appropriate in order to fit in.

He went from hobby to hobby because in reality he was unable to find satisfaction or ambition, so he tried whatever he could in order to spark some form of life in his heart but as of currently had come up short. These were Tatara's precious secrets, secrets only Mikoto was privy to. They were secrets spilled with legs tangled in silken sheets and sweat beading at every pore, spoken with sad eyes that may have just been a learned reflex. It wasn't hard to guess that the romantic relationship between Tatara and Mikoto hadn't lasted long, but neither party was truly hurt by it and they were as close friends as ever.

There was then, of course, Mikoto's right hand man and first best friend, Kusanagi Izumo. He owned and ran the bar they used for their base, and had both a fiery temper and a kind heart. He was smitten with Awashima Seri, the lieutenant of Scepter 4- the Blue Clan and their 'enemy' but Mikoto had never cared for the criteria that came with becoming the Red King. Hell, he hadn't even wanted the position in the first place but had felt pressured into it. Of course he held nothing against Tatara and Izumo for it, but he hated being a King because it was unbelievably heavy.

He was a lazy person throughout his life, Izumo could vouch for him on that, but now as a King he could barely keep his eyes open. It was like there was immense pressure pushing down on him all the time, a burning inferno in his mind that kept trying to consume his soul and it took all his energy to keep it at bay. He took more than frequent naps, bu they did little to help as he was plagued with nightmares of destruction and death.

At the very least he wasn't alone in that regard, for on more than occasion he had been awoken in the dead of night to Eric's screams coming from down the hall of the second floor where all the bedrooms were. Homra's second floor was used for temporary boarding for whenever a Clansmen didn't feel like going home, as Mikoto and Izumo were well aware of some of home life issues of their comrades, and on the occasions that Mikoto slept over he was guaranteed to be woken up by Eric's screams. Eric Sutr's situation was possibly the worst of all of them, basically being the sex slave of a gang his deceased parents had once run. He stayed at Homra the most often, as he lived with Fujishima Kosuke and the man wanted Eric to get used to sleeping in places other than the red head's bed. Fujishima's obsession with animals had kicked him out of more than one apartment.

Mikoto couldn't imagine the horrors that the boy had gone through, but all of Homra had helped pay for the boy's extensive medical bills and perhaps that was enough for Mikoto. Anna's maltreatment was enough for a thousand lifetimes, at least they hadn't sexually abused her, and Eric's story was just too dark to deal with when he was in danger of constantly being consumed by the power he wielded.

Then there was Chitose Yo, a player who was actually quite sensitive and according to his best friend Masaomi Dewa he had suffered during highschool in which he had a verbally abusive girlfriend that ruined him fully. Now Chitose relapsed in one night stands and off kilter relationships, all trying to be used to prove his self worth and in the end he would crawl back to Dewa's apartment and crash on his couch in a puddle of booze. With his dependence on the man, Chitose was free to live a tilted life in which Dewa was always left to pick up the pieces.

Last but not least there was Bando Saburota who whined about almost _everything. _People called him petty but Mikoto could see the inferiority complex lying beneath the hat under hood and dark shades-it was like the boy was trying his best to hide himself in broad daylight.

Then there was of course Kamamoto Rikio but the man was probably the most put together of them all, besides the almost instant size shrinkage every summer and then sudden weight gain during autumn like he was a fucking bear.

And now two more boys were going to join Homra and Mikoto couldn't help but wonder what problems they'd bring to the table. It had been only a few hours ago they had been strolling down the street when Anna had tugged on his sleeve and pointed wordlessly at a pair of boys sitting under a street lamp. They were truly just a couple of kids, still in high school judging by the uniforms they wore, and the ginger was drinking a soda with an angry expression , a game controller in the other hand. The other boy, a raven haired boy in glasses, was staring at the ginger with a forlorn expression and a wandering hand which gave the impression that it was his soda the ginger was downing.

He caught the bottle carelessly thrown his way with a smirk, taking a swig and then tossing it back, noting they had been drinking cherry soda. His flames ignited it and when it hit the ground it was a flaming mess of glass. He watched the boys staring in shock and then turned and continued on, knowing Kusanagi would give them invite. Personally he didn't want anymore members in Homra because he didn't want to be anyone's King, didn't want people looking up to him when he could barely stay awake against the force slowly killing him. But Anna was never wrong before, never sent people his way if not for a reason, mostly because she said they were hurting and needing a place to rest.

And now here he was, lounging on the red couch in the living room portion of the bar and waiting for the boys to eventually show their faces. He knew the boys would show up, all bright eyed and eager to join but also scared because he scared everyone. He knew the Aura made him intimidating and that as a King he gave off a pheromone or something that warned people that he was dangerous and something almost inhuman. Better that than have people swarming him, though with Homra that was basically the case. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the conversations with Totsuka and the chats with Izumo and the silent sittings with Anna, it was just that he was tired all the fucking time and he hated what he was and all he wanted was to-

"S-So this is the right place right?" He opened one eye to look at the pair of boys in the door frame, the bell going off as they walked in but lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed. They had run and got changed, apparently, as the ginger was dressed in a red and white horizontal striped t-shirt along with a pair of black skinny jeans, all in all looking like that American Where's Walter or some shit like that. The slightly taller boy was wearing a heavy dark blue zip-up hoodie and black skinny jeans that matched his companion's, though his expression was nervous while the other looked positively jovial.

He didn't blame the megane, because most new recruits came in looking like that. The ginger introduced himself to Izumo, who was behind the bar counter, as Yata Misaki, and introduced his friend as Fushimi Saruhiko. While they chatted, Mikoto stood from the couch unseen and began to walk up the stairs, fishing a cigarette from the carton in his jacket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He listened to the animated chatter of Yata and the silence of Fushimi, wondering again what personal problems they would add to the cocktail of misfits that was Homra.

He was pretty sure that Yata was desperate to belong, judging from the way he spoke and his mannerisms, once again proving that being silent and observing gained you a few interesting skills. He had always had a knack for reading people, though Totsuka had been more of the one to go out and do something about it, while he just mulled over his thoughts and enjoyed the silence of his mind. Speaking of Totsuka, the dirty blonde was bounding down the hallway towards him. He allowed himself a smile, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke through his nose in the way he knew reminded the blonde of a dragon.

"So those boys showed up, neh? I'm excited to see what they're powers will be like!" Mikoto smiled with warm eyes as Totsuka continued talking to no one in particular as he continued down the hall and down the stairs to greet said boys, all the while Mikoto wondered where the blonde got all the energy to fake emotions.

He disappeared into the room where they inducted new recruits, where the floorboards and walls were covered in burn marks from rookies who didn't know how to deal with the sudden ability to control pink flames. He had stopped wondering a long time ago why the flames were fucking pink instead of red and orange like normal fire, but Izumo had once quipped that it was because the Dresden Slate knew he was gay. He didn't bother taking the time to explain that he wasn't gay, he was bisexual, though internally he allowed himself a little laugh at the joke.

He took a seat in the great red lounge chair with the golden lion armrests, the whole thing something Totsuka had insisted they buy from a garage sale, and waited patiently with his cigarette perched between his lips. Soon enough the first boy, Yata Misaki, came in with a sort of nervous aura though his face was bright and excited. He smirked, the boy's enthusiasm rubbing off on him, and held out his hand from where he sat. The boy stared at it, his eyes widening as Mikoto's palm engulfed in flames, and shot a nervous look at his face.

Mikoto moved the cancer stick to the side of his mouth as he spoke, "If you are worthy of the mark you'll be fine." He could have said more, could have said that Anna only directed those that could take it towards him, but he didn't. It was up the boy to decide if he was capable and ready to join the Clan, after all. The boy took it almost immediately, and Mikoto knew the boy was already going to a handful. It was bad enough that Totsuka was so friendly he got into trouble all the time, the last thing they needed was a headstrong boy in his teens but it was what it was.

The flames traveled and surged around the boy like a second skin, and Mikoto noted the amount of power flowing from him to the boy was rather great, signaling the boy to be very powerful. At last he let go, letting the boy stare at his fiery hands with a look of glee, before he motioned for him to leave and let the other teen in. He didn't like talking, not even before when he was still a normal human being, because he always felt like he could get what he needed across with his eyes and hands, so there was no need to waste saliva on drivel. Though he spoke for others when he felt generous, or when he was too agitated to sleep off his anxiety that he was going to burn down everything around him at any moment.

When Fushimi Saruhiko entered the room, Mikoto felt like the boy was going to be as whiney and bratty as Bando, as he wore an annoyed expression like the whole world bothered him. He wanted to be proved wrong, if only that they didn't need another Bando. He held out his flaming hand, as before, and the boy looked at him like he was crazy. The expression was so utterly comical that Mikoto couldn't help but chuckle lightly and stand from his seat to extend his hand further.

Fushimi couldn't have been more than seventeen, fifteen at the least, and his glasses were a little too big for his head as they slipped down once more and the boy pushed them back up the bride of his nose. "It won't hurt." He said, trying to be nice, but the boy just looked at him like he had just royally insulted him. He took his hand without a word, and as the power flowed into the glasses wearing teen, Mikoto could have sworn the boy was trying to break his hand as he squeezed it so hard. He thought the boy was scared, but when he looked into the boy's eyes he saw nothing but determination and arrogance.

He thought to himself that the boy was well on his way to being his next hobby.

He didn't know that it would be literal.

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	3. Chapter 2

**Warning**: not very graphic oral sex (yes, yes I know)

Next chapter up at **40 reviews**

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Mikoto was sure that if he hung around Yata enough that they boy would try to sew their bodies together. It hadn't even been a full month that he and Fushimi had joined Homra and Yata was already competing for Totsuka's spot as The Most Enthusiastic Motherfucker Ever. Sure, Mikoto found him pleasant to be around sometimes and on occasions his bright eyes and long talks were endearing, just don't expect him to be available to listen to his loyalty rants twenty four seven.

So here Mikoto had drawn the line, or more over that he just upped and walked out of Homra and down a random alleyway a few blocks down to have a smoke. Izumo would notice he needed a break and would keep anyone from following him. It wasn't even that random of an alleyway since it was the same brick tiled alley he always went to when he wanted to smoke in silence.

Of course he hadn't expected it to be already occupied.

He barely paused in step when he saw the bespectacled youth in the same blue jacket he seemed to wear every time he trailed into Homra behind Yata's bouncing form. The boy rarely talked, only looking around the bar and at Yata as he blabbered on about something, and as mean as it sounded Mikoto hadn't even noticed that he had walked out.

It was rather obvious to him that he was just going along with Yata, as he had never showed enthusiasm or will to join Homra. But still the mark had taken as a tattoo that rested over his heart, just like his ginger friend's, and Mikoto had never held anything against the few people who had left Homra over the years for whatever reason.

He strolled to lean against the far wall of the dead-end alley way, Fushimi crouched next to him with the white end of a lollipop sticking out of the corner of his mouth. His music player was plugged into his ears and from the loud blaring sound escaping them Mikoto surmised he was listening to jazz, of all things. Staring in boredom ahead of him, sitting on a metal pipe that jutted from the ground, the boy looked just as he did in Homra surrounded by noisy people.

Utterly uninterested in anything and everything.

It wasn't Mikoto's problem, not until the boy made it his problem as the others were want to do eventually. He wondered if the boy could end up being one of the only truly stable members in Homra, as Yata clearly had a belonging complex, but he had been proved wrong before. Fishing a cigarette from his carton in his pocket he snapped his fingers and took a slow drag.

When he smoked in this alley way he liked to be alone, just him and his thoughts, but with the boy and his loud saxophone through his earphones he couldn't very well be at peace. But then again he was too lazy to go somewhere else and he wasn't rude enough to ask the boy to leave, as the youth had been there first.

"That'll kill you eventually."

Mikoto blinked, and looked down at the boy who was tugging out his earbuds as he shut off his music player. He had almost never heard the boy say a word, maybe a few lines to Yata when the boy actually noticed him but other than that the boy could be labeled a mute. His voice, his words, they sounded condescending and as bored as he looked, but Mikoto remembered the boy's firm grip and the cold flames in his eyes and his utter fascination with the boy in the blue sweater. He snorted lightly in response, and the boy stood and leaned against he wall beside him, lollipop clacking against his teeth audibly as he rolled it around.

"I've never been one to care about my health, as you can see." He added, pointing up at the Sword that wasn't present in the sky but the boy, according to others, was incredibly intelligent so he was sure he could figure it out. Fushimi blinked in response, tucking up a leg to put his foot on the brick wall, and took out the lollipop from his mouth so he could speak more clearly. Mikoto was not sure why he was surprised to see that the lollipop was a cherry red, as he certainly hadn't been expecting anything different.

"Smoking makes your lungs black and your breath stink, that and it makes kissing gross for the other person."

Mikoto raised a brow at the last part, and began to chew on the end of his cigarette. "You have a girlfriend who smokes?" In hindsight this was a strange conversation for him to be having, and the boy had quite a snarky side apparently, but he wasn't offended in the least. Just curious.

"No."

"Boyfriend then?"

"No."

They were flat answers spoken in a flat tone of voice and eyes half lidded with utter boredom. Mikoto was starting to wonder if anything really interested the boy, perhaps that was his problem and the mystery was gone. Fushimi put the lollipop back in his mouth but continued to talk anyway.

"But seriously, kissing someone who smokes is like tonguing a chimney."

That got a laugh out of Mikoto though it was more of a light chuckle. "You speak as though you have experience though." Fushimi clicked his tongue, the lollipop clacking against his teeth in a single loud sound.

"I'm not a virgin."

It wasn't like when Yata got all flustered and ranting that he wasn't a virgin, clearly showing that he was, but it was more like a statement, a flat declaration, and Mikoto didn't like the way it sounded. He pulled in the rest of his cancer stick with his tongue and gnawed on it. He never did think he was going to make it to thirty since he was a kid, anyway.

"You say that, but what are you? Fifteen?"

At that Fushimi shot him a light glare, a far cry from the almost threatening look he had given him upon induction.

"Sixteen"

"Ah~, still too young to have sex."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, or the right thing since he found the boy's anger interesting, as the boy's glare turned dark. "When did you lose it then?" Mikoto didn't owe the boy an answer, but it wasn't like it bothered him, he happened to be rather laid back.

"Let's see, got a blowjob at your age and then fucked some chick when I was drunk at seventeen..." He couldn't even remember if she was a blonde or a brunette, and it wasn't like her feelings were hurt because she high tailed it out of the cheep motel room without leaving so much as a note. But she did leave a few bucks on the bed which was rather insulting to him.

"How was the blowjob?"

"Was fine, not like they were experienced or anything."

Fushimi paused, and began to chew on his cherry lollipop rather loudly, and Mikoto felt like continuing such an odd conversation.

"I'm sure it would have been better if they were."

He heard the boy swallow and out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy spat the stick to the side.

"Do you have any money on you?"

"I have a couple bills, you need some cash?"

Suddenly Fushimi was directly in front of him, sapphire eyes frigid cold. Mikoto blinked, not sure of what the boy was suddenly so serious about, and then those same sapphire eyes turned stormy as eyelids fell half mast and he was a hundred percent sure those were bedroom eyes and then everything went to hell.

Before he could do anything, move or speak or even grab another cigarette, the boy had knelt down and unzipped his pants. If there was a cigarette in his mouth, Mikoto was sure it would have fell from his lips as he just stared down at the boy with an almost comical, owlish expression. It was obvious where things were going, but at the same time he couldn't fathom why they were going that way in the first place. Had he said something along the lines of 'hey boy give me a blowjob', because he didn't remember doing so.

He needed to get the boy to stop, but in a single fluid movement he had pulled down his underwear and lapped at his length's head and Mikoto's angry response turned into a frustrated hiss. He balled his hands into fists and tried to control his breathing, trying to figure out a way to get the boy off of him without getting angry enough to loose flame on him. The boy was good, _far too good, _clear that this was not the first time he had done such a thing. His tongue worked around Mikoto's member with expert languid strokes, and it wasn't long before he took him into his mouth to the base. Mikoto's eyes flew open wide and he let out a choked sound, unable to really focus his thoughts on anything other than how _fucking good _Saruhiko Fushimi's mouth was. It was a few minutes before Mikoto felt his release build, and he choked out a 'get off' but the boy just took him impossibly deeper and he released down the boy's throat.

White danced in front of his vision, and he was vaugely aware of someone slipping his wallet out of his back pocket. "That's enough." Fushimi mumbled, and turned and walked away without another word.

Mikoto was left staring after the boy like an idiot, his limp member still out and his slightly lighter wallet in his hands.

At least now he knew what the boy's problem really was, though it didn't make him feel any better about any of it.

He had to try and fix this.

Somehow.

He did not expect to find that same sixteen year old straddling his lap nearly three months later.

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So there you have it, my first smut and I tried to make it as light as possible but I don't know, how was it? If you've read my other works I bet your surprised as I said I'd never do this but alas time has changed me.

Btw if anyone's wondering, yes, Saruhiko is in fact a prostitute in this story.

***whispers*** I regret nothing :D


	4. Chapter 3

You're reviews were all so sweet and I'm happy to present the next chapter to you all!

Next chapter up at** 60 reviews**

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He had no idea how he was possibly going to fix this, Mikoto was utterly lost. He had spent that night brooding in his apartment, taking three showers because he just felt _wrong. _The boy had taken his money, not a lot but still cash, _he had payed for a blowjob from a sixteen year old boy_. It didn't help that it was the best fucking blowjob he had ever gotten, and he realized that the boy must have reacted from when he had said it would have been better if the person doing it was experienced.

He had just stated an opinion, he hadn't asked the boy to unzip his pants and suck him off! He felt like he had molested someone even though it was more the other way around. He felt a little bit nauseous, but he wasn't about to throw up his dinner of ramen and booze.

He could barely wrap his head around the idea that the boy was sixteen, in high school, and a prostitute. It was obvious the boy was selling his body for money, at least now it was. Who did you go to about something like this? The police? Bullshit, he wasn't going to someone who he'd avoided his whole life, not to mention he could run circles around them. Scepter 4? What was the point of that when it wasn't their specialty.

He wasn't about to ask Yata about it because it was more than likely that the boy had no idea that his roommate was promiscuous. All that was left was either to ignore the situation entirely, it wasn't like it was doing him harm, or to find a way to fix it all. Which he had no idea how to do.

In the end he decided to sleep on it, unable to figure out an immediate solution.

A week passed in which Mikoto spent his alone hours trailing the raven haired youth, not sure why he cared so much and at the same time fighting the urge to throttle every man the boy disappeared into a motel with. The boy truly was a prostitute, wearing beneath the blue jacket he wore daily a neon pink tank top that hung loosely off his frame and showed off his midriff. The whole thing made Mikoto feel ill, wondering how young the boy had started such a vile job.

Prostitutes were people down on their luck and out of cash, pushed into a corner with no other choice. Prostitutes were not sixteen year old high school students who were at the top of their class. At least in Mikoto's book that was the case. Why on Earth would the boy ever sell his body, let old men and curious college boys violate him in exchange for a billfold.

There were so many things wrong with the whole thing, adding on that Mikoto had only known of the boy's existence for a month and he was already giving him sleepless nights with worried thoughts. It was just that Fushimi's predicament hit him like Eric's had, made him feel nauseous pity and cold chilling worry grip him tight and refuse to let him go no matter how hot he burned. He took his frustration and inaction on small rival gangs, and while the rest of Homra was having a ball he just couldn't keep his eyes off the boy as he fought.

Fushimi was strong, very strong, though instead of using his flames he preferred to use the throwing knives he kept hidden in his long sleeves. Yata burned red and blossomed fire everywhere he went, his spit fired quick tempered personality getting the better of him while Saruhiko barely conjured up a single flame during his fights. It was only afterwards, standing in ash and blood, that the boy's body would glow with his Aura, head hung and eyes hidden, and it was in those times that Mikoto wondered how the boy thought of himself.

Did Fushimi hate himself for what he did? Did he find pride in it? Mikoto thought it would be strange if he did, how could anyone pride themselves in selling their rights? Was the boy in heavy debts? He wouldn't know, didn't particularly want to dive into the boy's background in fear of what he would find, and he was conflicted whether or not to even continue caring. Everyone in Homra was damaged, and in comparison to the rest Fushimi was capable of balancing appearances regardless of his personal problems.

At three months and still unable to muster up the courage to face the boy directly about his life choices, Mikoto gave up on the idea completely.

He did not expect that he would wake up from a nap in his Homra bedroom to find a certain sixteen year old straddling his lap.

Once again Mikoto did not know how things were happening as they were, where the boy got it in his head that he was interested in his..._services. _

However with a single roll of his hips over Mikoto's crotch trapped any and all words from leaving his mouth other than a choked hiss. It was the middle of the afternoon, still light outside but the blinds had been pulled closed in the small room so he could nap without disturbance. The sunlight hit the boy in slats not unlike the black and white of old time prison outfits, and Mikoto wondered if he could be convicted of pedophilia since the boy grinding their hips together was underage.

First off, he had to get the boy to stop, to get off of him, and in a way that wouldn't get Mikoto angry, lest he burn the boy to something less than ash. That was his own personal promise to himself, that he wouldn't harm any member of Homra, that he had vowed to protect them, but it was hard not be angry, even if it was with himself, with a teenage boy rutting against him like a dog in heat. It didn't help that the boy was smirking, looking like a minx, with sultry bedroom eyes that reminded him of a certain alleyway encounter.

Mikoto felt bile rise in his throat and he growled, one hand grabbing the boy's left leg and the other the boy's left arm. He didn't care at the moment that the grip would likely bruise the boy, as he was more focused on regaining control over his libido and forcing the kid to stop what he was doing. It was wrong, _this_ was wrong, and it had to _stop_.

Saruhiko's lips curled into a feral grin, "Finally going to do something?" The satisfaction and lust in the boy's voice was nauseating, and he narrowed his eyes and forced the boy's movement's still.

"Yeah, stop this already."

To say the boy looked confused would be the understatement of the year. He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"You fucking followed me for months, you want me right? Why else would you _stalk_ me for _months_?"

He refrained from showing his surprised that the boy had noticed his presence, but pushed it from his mind in favor of getting the point across.

"I was concerned for your well being."

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Saruhiko ran from the room with eyes laced in humiliation and fury. He had never been turned away before, by any man, and certainly wouldn't think that the first time it would happen would be because the other person felt _sorry_ for him. How _dare_ that man, damn his Kingship to hell, how dare he take _pity_ on him when there was no reason for him to _care_. He didn't understand why the man hadn't taken what he had offered, hadn't flipped their positions and fucked him until he couldn't see straight.

Men had always wanted him, and had always let them because he got money from it. Mikoto Suoh was far too complicated- he sucked him off! He knew he was a good lay! He stalked him for over a month and scared away half his clients just by his aura alone! And yet now here he was saying that it had been because he was _worried?_

_Fuck that. _

He had grown up in a world where things were taken away and those who were supposed to care for him abandoned him on the side of a road at the age of seven. He had slunk into town and lived in abandoned buildings, being raped by men who too strong to fight against and it wasn't until he saw a whore take her pay that he realized he could use what had been once a torture to climb his way out of the gutters. It was unpleasant at first, more often than not his clients assumed they could keep him since he was small and looked harmless, but his knives always set things straight and earned him a bit more cash than he cost.

He did not know the comfort of a warm bed unless it was that slim hour he was pounded into one, did not know the kindness of an embrace because sometimes his clients got too rough and tried to hug his breath away.

He had enrolled into a middle school because teachers were easy pickings.

He had not expected to make his first and only friend with a _virgin. _

He was happy, yes, to find a friend, but with Misaki he felt utterly inadequate for the affection the other boy bestowed on him. Misaki endlessly confused him, because he never asked him for anything. He'd buy him an ice cream not ask Saruhiko to suck his dick in return, didn't let the boy stay over at his house in return for letting the boy bang him. He didn't get the boy's way of thinking, giving something for nothing, and merely filed it away under the things too confusing to worry about.

High school came and the days went by quickly, Saruhiko skipping class to get cash from teachers who would fuck him in the faculty bathrooms and at night he and Misaki would go back to the apartment they had rented together. Misaki's parents had disowned him for being gay, which once again didn't make sense to Saruhiko, but had found a home with Saruhiko.

Thought Saruhiko rarely slept in the bunkbeds they had bought, and instead found his sleep on creaking motel mattresses with his body sticky and raw.

He had long since learned to love it.

But it was a far cry from learning how to love himself.

* * *

;_;


	5. Chapter 4

Next chapter up at **80 reviews**

* * *

Saruhiko was no stranger to going to bed hungry.

After being rejected in such a humiliating way, he had gone straight back to the apartment he shared with Misaki and curled under his bedsheets. He didn't care that it wasn't even late in the afternoon, only that he was angry and on the verge of tears and sleep had always been his best friend.

He hadn't had breakfast, and lunch he'd skipped too, but he was too lazy to drag himself out of bed and make a sandwich or something. Either way it was an exercise in self control, and he forced his body to relax, his mind to drift, and in a matter of minutes he was out like a light. He was an extremely light sleeper, something that was key when you lived in abandoned buildings and any small sound could mean life or death.

Meanwhile, back in one of the many guestrooms in Homra, Mikoto was on the verge of losing his damn mind. Lying on his back in the bed the boy had straddled him on, he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Letting his eyelids fall shut, he could see the boy's face perfectly. How that sultry expression had melted into cold fury.

They boy was admittedly beautiful in a way that some men would kill for, with long legs and eyelashes, pretty pink lips and the most captivating sapphire eyes that Mikoto had ever seen. But beneath the deadly beauty was a brokenness that Mikoto could only spot because he was the same on the inside.

Broken but unwilling to fix it.

He sighed heavily and wished he could talk to someone for advice on the whole thing, but who could he talk to? Who was so far removed from the situation that it wouldn't techniqually be counted as confiding a secret?

The answer was so obvious he wished he had gone to Totsuka three months earlier.

* * *

The blonde was downstairs on the red couch reading a magazine, but as soon as Mikoto walked down the stairs the man was quick to notice him and give him a broad smile.

"King." he said, and Mikoto was glad the rest of the bar was void of life-where everyone had gone was anyone's guess. Mikoto took a seat next to the blonde, and Totsuka put the magazine down with a sad smile.

"I saw Fushimi-kun run out of here not a few minutes ago."

"Hn." Mikoto made a noise of agreement, eyes transfixed on his hands resting in his lap, trying to find the words to even begin to explain what was going on. For some reason this was a more delicate topic than others he had spoken of, perhaps because their age difference was bothering him so much. Perhaps it was just because it was because the boy's problem was on the same tangent as sexual abuse, like Eric's, and that was why his throat felt tight.

Maybe it was just because he had once slept with Totsuka and talking to him about this made him feel weird.

"Does this have to do with the fact that he spends his nights at that motel on 17th ave?" Mikoto didn't know why he was surprised, but he was. Totsuka just played with the fur on the hem of Mikoto's sleeves, "I walk down that street whenever I want to buy peaches from that little shop owned by that nice old lady, I see him often. I saw you peeking around the corner at him when he walked in a couple times, but I didn't want to ask." Mikoto tried not to be annoyed that he had been so obvious, but this was Totsuka and Totsuka always noticed everything.

Mikoto sighed through his nose and pulled out a cigarette, and offered one to Tosuka who took it gratefully. The blonde only smoked when they were alone together, as it was something he wanted the others not to know about him for some reason, maybe it went along with his emotions being false, Mikoto had never asked.

"So you're conflicted about sleeping with him because he's a prostitute?"

Mikoto snorted, smoke coming out like a dragon's breath, "Not in the least." Realizing what that sounded like he quickly backtracked, "I mean, I'm not sleeping with him, I don't want to sleep with him, but for some reason he thinks I'm baiting him and keeps jumping me everywhere. I mean I just woke up and he's straddling me." Totuska nodded, looking every bit the intellectual smoker on a drunken Saturday night.

"So when did this all start?"

Mikoto tried his best to explain in as little detail as possible, partly because he was embarrassed at his own lack of control over the situation. Give him an army of thugs and he'd blaze a trail through them no problem, come at him sexually and he didn't know what to do, because he didn't want to be _rough _in that situation and didn't know how to get a point across otherwise.

Totsuka listened, not interrupting even once, just sitting there and watching him with nonjudgmental honey-brown eyes. When he finished he felt disgusted with himself, like he had violated the boy and not the other way around.

Totsuka reached out a put a hand on his knee, "I don't think you did anything wrong so stop beating yourself up about it.I don't think you can stop him, though, as bad habits like that are almost impossible to break, though I think you should keep an eye out for him anyway. That's not to say you should go back to talking him though, because you were particularly awful at it." He grinned and Mikoto swatted him playfully with a smirk of his own.

And the days melted into months.

He tried to take Tosuka's word for it and remove himself from the situation, knowing it would be better for his own mental health at the very least. It was hard, though, when Saruhiko excused himself from the bar before Misaki, saying he would be late home again and Misaki would whine about it. It was hard knowing where he was going, and at night it was hard to know that Saruhiko was being fucked by some random man in a dingy hotel while Mikoto lay in bed.

He no longer exchanged words with the boy, not because he didn't want to but because the boy ignored his existence. He shied away from him and always kept a large distance between them, and avoided eye contact at all costs. He kept it up even six months after the bed incident, and Mikoto could at least acknowledge that the boy had the capability and strength of will to hold a grudge. It was admirable, but it also made him worry.

As time went on he grew more obsessed with the boy's welfare, perhaps even neglecting his own in favor of staying up late at night to ponder how much the boy suffered throughout his life. On and on it went, with his odd fascination with Saruhiko Fushimi growing from curiosity to concern to something else.

He didn't realize what he was feeling until the boy stumbled into his own surprise party that Yata had convinced the rest of Homra to participate in. The Red Clan members had never really been fond of the antisocial boy in the big blue jacket he wore everyday like he owned nothing else, and the begrudgingly participated in buying a cake and hanging up decorations like they did for every other member's birthday.

Mikoto had not participated, though he had watched from the couch with Anna sitting beside him as she folded paper flowers for the boy's birthday bouquet that she made every birthday celebration as her own little tradition. He watched her lithe fingers fold the pastel petals into a dazzling and fragile bunch of flowers, and wondered what the boy would think of a surprise party when he never seemed interested in anything but his work and Yata Misaki.

The boy walked in with an excited Yata trailing behind, right on time- and Mikoto knew there were two hours to spare before he had to go pick up clients. He watched from the couch, his favorite place to be, as the boy's face went from puzzled to clearly overjoyed-such an out of character expression several people choked on their drinks and Mikoto was just staring at the only smile he'd ever seen the boy show in the over-half a year that he had known him.

Anna scampered up and handed him the big bouquet and Mikoto was well aware of how his mouth had opened as he stared transfixed on the boy's glowing face. Standing there, grinning and blushing like a happy fool with a bouquet of pastel flowers held up to his face, Mikoto realized what had overcome that feeling of concern.

He was romantically interested in Saruhiko Fushimi.

Which of course lent to a whole other nest of problems that he didn't have any ideas of how to fix.

* * *

aw, confused Mikoto is so cute


	6. Chapter 5

Thank's for all your support and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Next chapter up at **100 reviews**

* * *

Saruhiko had never been more confused in his life.

"No! I'm not dating you!"

"Why not? Why can't we just try?"

"Because, number 1 it's bad for clients, number 2-I'm not interested in you!"

"That's not what it seemed like before."

"Before was because you kept stalking me!"

"I was concerned, it wasn't stalking."

"Yes it was and you were in fact very obvious! I lost several clients because you kept hulking around!"

"Maybe that's a good thing, you shouldn't be doing this anyway."

"You aren't my parent or my friend and even if you were it's my life not yours! Just go back to laying around and burning up city blocks or whatever you do! Go away!"

"But-"

"NO! Leave me alone!"

Saruhiko rushed away from the man in the furry black leather jacket and the flaming red hair for somewhere less...confusing. His King was getting on his nerves-, his lazy, infuriating, almost stoic king when he wasn't begging for Saruhiko to give him a chance and _date _him. How vulgar, how pitiful, how...

Confusing.

Why would a man who had everything go after him in such a manner if he didn't want to fuck him? Was it that _concern _bullshit he had spouted before? Why would anyone in their right mind be concerned for him of all people? Well Mikoto Suoh clearly wasn't in the right mind when he was a fucking KING and still snapped at small fry gangs whilst collecting a group of misfits for a Clan. He should be out conquering the world and instead he's playing house. Saruhiko was well aware of the fragile souls in his Clan, because he was an observer who preferred to sit things out and analyze them later. But it was more that these people, these goody-two-shoes men who pretended to be badasses by chasing after thugs but back home helped a little girl learn how to knit or play Parcheesi in the living room.

Bunch of needy homebodies every one.

Even his precious Misaki.

He'd always known, from the moment he'd met the ginger, that the boy was cracked inside in a million pieces. They were a lot alike, in that regard, but Saruhiko slowly realized that unlike him, Misaki didn't want to be broken anymore, he wanted a family and somewhere to belong.

And Saruhiko didn't want to fix himself.

Because broken toys aren't fixed like in the movies, aren't given their own little island to live happily together.

Broken toys are thrown away and stomped underfoot.

Broken toys are forgotten and abandoned.

Broken toys are just trash.

And trash didn't need _concern._

* * *

Mikoto sighed, not having expected the boy to relent to his persuasion anyway, and lit his tenth cigarette of the day.

"Those are dreadful for you, you know?"

He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, as he had sensed the man's presence even though he had been blocks away. He smirked, letting the Blue King stroll into his field of vision and lean on the lamppost he was currently resting on.

"You say that, but we both know you enjoy a good smoke once and in a while."

Munakata Reisi said nothing, but Mikoto could feel the cool energy of his Aura coming off in waves like heat off the pavement on a hot summers' day.

"So you're interested in one of your own clansmen?" Munakata asked, lighting his own cigarette and balancing it precariously on the edge of soft smile. Mikoto grunted in an affirmative response, and the Blue King paused.

"If he won't give you the time of day why not try the night? I'm sure he'll have time to see you between clients?"

A spark shot through Mikoto's spine and he sent a venomous glare out of the corner of his eye that would make anyone but another King soil themselves in an instant. It was no secret that Scepter4 was the control center of intelligence, but it didn't make Mikoto any happier with Reisi saying it in such a way. He knew the other wouldn't have dared bed the boy, because he was many things-a tea drinker, a puzzle lover, and a rather effeminate looking man, but he was asexual-something only Mikoto knew due to a drunken wrestling match they once had back in high school together that ended up in a blood nose and two black eyes.

Reisi just quirked a bigger smile, "I'm just saying that perhaps you should approach him when he's more in his element, get across the point that you want to help, rather than hurt. He quite obviously thinks he is unworthy of your concern, so you just need to show him otherwise. Let him know you aren't holding any cards up your sleeves." And with that the Blue King departed as silently as he had come, leaving Mikoto none the wiser. It was obvious that the boy didn't have high self esteem, thought Mikoto wanted him for something, thought his efforts and words of concern for his welfare weren't ingenuous.

Though perhaps visiting the boy when the moon was bright and the lights were dim would yield a better result.

* * *

Saruhiko had just finished with his first client for the night and was thankful he had only asked for a blow job. Quick, simple, easy, and rather clean considering he had instructed the man to wear a condom-one of his two golden rules.

1. Always wear a condom no matter what you ask for.

2. You can kiss me, even with tongue, but don't expect me to compliment you for your taste.

Spoken before every fuck or back alley jack off, these were his rules he'd instated ever since his first few times around the old bend. The fact that he'd sucked his own King off without a condom and even swallowed was only because he didn't want to get incinerated by the man if he didn't, as he'd been struck before and even choked by clients who'd been unhappy with his services, but those were far and few in between. He was fairly well known in the red light district, a favorite among many and the hated of most other prostitutes when he ran off with men who wore their wealth as a second skin.

He'd been taken in penthouses, apartments, hotels, motels, alleyways, and once even in the sewers by a man with dark tastes. He didn't care whether he was fucked on silk sheets or with the rough scrape of brick at his back, as long as he was payed and not killed by STDS or a pissed off drunk, he didn't care what they did with him.

So why did Mikoto Suoh, the Red King, HIS King, why did that man care so much?

At first he had thought the man interested in his services, wanting after him just like all the others did, but then when Saruhiko finally gave into the what he'd thought the man had wanted, he was proved wrong.

This man claimed to 'care about his well being'.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

This man claimed to want nothing other than for him to 'try and get to know him', and how was Saruhiko supposed to respond to that? What if all the man wanted was sex in the end? That would be ideal, perfectly fine and right up his alley, but then again Saruhiko had always hated liars even though he'd always been one to the core. What if the man actually wanted him for something else? Like kill and sell his organs or auction him off or beat him to death or kidnap him for some weird reason or use him in a drug deal or some other fucking thing that was clearly NOT GOOD.

But here he said he wanted nothing but a simple date, a 'test run', but a test run of fucking WHAT?! He was useless for anything other than sex and maybe hacking because he'd always come up short at the end of the week from whoring himself out and sold information to his clients on the side. So he was an informant and a whore, not a slut like some of his clients would whisper in his ear like it would arouse him for some reason. How could being degraded being arousing or sexy? He didn't know, but he played along for his clients for a little extra cash he'd pick from their pockets while they were dazed and doused.

He knew he was an informant, a whore, and a piece of shit trash.

He knew he was a broken toy.

And that was fine.

It was fine.

It was FINE.

So why did Mikoto's Suoh pleads of concern make his throat tight and his eyes burn?

* * *

Mikoto found his target standing at the mouth of an alleyway by a neon motel with blaring signs, the artificial light casting a rosy tint to the boy he always associated with the color blue.

Blue is cold.

Blue is sad.

Blue is depth of a brokenness near unfixable, and Mikoto was never good with tools.

"One date."

Saruhiko's voice caught him off guard, those cold blue eyes staring holes into his own with a stoney glare. He pulled the blue jacket tighter around his shoulders, the tight black tank top poor cover in the cold of the night. Mikoto tried to hide his excitement at his victory when he had in fact done and said nothing, and nodded curtly.

The boy shooed him off, eyes narrowing, "You got your answer now go away, you'll scare away potential clients with your angry aura. Mikoto refrained from saying he was anything but angry, though the mention of the boy's professional did not put him in a happy state of mind.

Nevertheless he left with a smile on his face, knowing that the battle for Saruhiko Fushimi was far from over.

But he had always liked a challenge.

* * *

God I just love Mikoto so much I just watched the anime again for the thousandth time and just-umpahsdfkjh his face is so hot! I want to just lick it~! coOKIE FOR THOSE WHO GOT THE REFERENCE :)


	7. Chapter 6

NOW FOR THE FIRST DATE!

Next chapter up at **110 reviews**

* * *

Mikoto took the boy to an art museum for their first date, much to Saruhiko's surprise and poorly concealed pleasure. The King was well aware of the boy's love for fine art, especially the macabre and the surreal. He himself held no interest in the sparse paintings and sculptures that filled the white rooms that were too large for such little art.

The whole thing seemed pretentious and awkward to him, the man in black serving wine to patrons on a silver platter while men and women dressed for the finer things mulled about at a snail's pace. Everyone was silent, like a damn library, and he felt terribly out dressed and outclassed (money wise) amongst them all, but Saruhiko's smile and the interest behind deep sapphire orbs held his attentions throughout the visit.

He was content in staring at the boy's contemplative expression as he stared at the bizarre paintings of Dali. He was especially fond of the more grotesque ones, blood and guts and floating skulls and Mikoto didn't really want to bother asking. When Saruhiko had successfully stared at each and every painting for more than six minutes each, they left the museum and found the sun starting to set. They had both had lunch before they met up together, and now they were starving, so Mikoto offered to take him to dinner. He watched the boy color lightly, before setting his lips into a firm line.

Mikoto thought it was adorable but knew if he said so he would be out of a dinner date.

He set them up at a nice little sidewalk cafe because when he offered to take them to high class restaurant, Saruhiko pointed out that neither of them were dressed for it. So they settled for a tiny sushi cafe, and Saruhiko wasn't complaining so that was a good sign. As they sat at a table outside, the night air cooling quickly as the sun disappeared and streetlights and neon signs took it's place.

Saruhiko was quiet, fiddling with the hem of his long sleeves, and Mikoto was fine with the silence, though it seemed the other, suddenly, was not.

"If this is a date you have to tell me about yourself, since you clearly know at least one of my secrets, surely I should learn some of yours." The boy deadpanned at him, and he was only able to smirk before the waiter came by and asked what they wanted to order. They ordered small platters of shrimp and chicken skewers, and while Mikoto ordered a glass of whiskey-always happy with Western liquors, the boy settled for a water.

So as they waited for their food to be prepared, which wouldn't take long as Mikoto had learned from coming to the cafe before, Mikoto spoke and Saruhiko listened. Mikoto's parents were both deceased, though his mother had raised him until he was half way through highschool before succumbing to lung cancer that had plauged her most of his childhood. His father was unknown, and his mother never spoke of him, though when he asked if she had even loved him, she had shaken her head and lit another cigarette, saying that they were just two lonely souls who wanted some company for a while, Mikoto just the result. But despite her smoking and drinking habits, her sleeping around with the various men, and sometimes women, that she would bring home, she was a dedicated mother.

She always made his meals, even if they were low in nutrition, and never failed to be kind, though when it came down to the hard questions she was always honest and blunt with him, something he was now eternally grateful for. Kusanagi had grown up across the street from his run down shack of a house, in not much better shape. He came from a poor family with wealthy extensions, but his parents had fallen on hard times and they were furiously fighting with debt. Even though the blonde was two years older than him, they became fast friends and eventually went everywhere together. They went to school, but they were by no means good students. Delinquents by nature and nurture, Mikoto and Kusanagi had stolen enough wallets by their second year in middle school that they had managed to pay off both Kusanagi's parent's debts and Mikoto's mother's own bills for her hospital stays.

Her progression into lung cancer was a slow and arduous one, and often he'd be woken in the middle of the night to laborious coughing and hushed swearing. But his mother wouldn't want his pity or his concern, despite how worried he was, and he would force himself to go back to sleep or would sneak out his bedroom window and wander around the woods in his backyard. He told Saruhiko of how he had met Totsuka, how the boy had been like a puppy following him and that he couldn't understand why such a clumsy weak person would be so invested in him.

Saruhiko listened with a contemplative face, never making eye contact, but Mikoto could tell the other boy was listening by his body language. He had figured the other would not contribute or offer up any background on himself because that was understandable. It was clear that the boy was damaged, had a horrible life, and it wasn't something he was just going to come out and reveal to someone he didn't trust.

Their food came and they were silent on both sides as they ate their meals.

* * *

Saruhiko didn't know how he was supposed to act on a date, since he had never been on one before. He had _clients, _not_ boyfriends,_ and he didn't even know if they were boyfriends or what because he didn't understand why Mikoto Suoh, why anyone really, would be romantically interested in gutter trash, in a whore, if they weren't looking for sex.

If they didn't want something in return.

Mikoto got nothing out of this deal-except perhaps boredom at the art museum and he was happy the older male had taken him there, as he had enjoyed himself immensely. He loved art, especially the dark and imaginative kind, because he could get lost in it and forget that he was a seller of himself for a few moments.

They finished their dinner rather quickly, and then paid and left. Saruhiko felt awkward as his King walked him back to the apartment he and Misaki shared. He wouldn't have to worry about Misaki seeing them, because he knew that the other boy was engrossed in his games whenever he got home and wouldn't look away for anything. He could literally walk around the living room in only a pair of panties and the boy would just call over the blare of his game that Saruhiko needed to buy more eggs at the grocery store.

Misaki was fun.

Saruhiko stopped at the door to the complex, the door that would take him into the first floor lobby and then he'd grab the elevator to shoot up to the third floor because he was too lazy to take the stairs. However Saruhiko had no time to react before the red haired King had captured his lips in a light and quick peck. He drew back with a smirk and waved a silent goodbye before walking away with his hands in his pockets, and Saruhiko watched his back until he rounded a building and out of sight.

Saruhiko touched his lips with a small smile, closing his eyes and letting the tears fall.

"I don't deserve this happiness," he whispered to himself, and leaned back against the wall of the building and slide down to the floor.

Mikoto did not hear his laborious sobs, too caught up in his own satisfaction half a block around the corner.

* * *

D: No Saru no!


	8. Chapter 7

Next chapter up at **120 reviews**

* * *

Saruhiko and Mikoto seemed to run circles around one another, going on date after date but even though Mikoto had pretty much told his life's story backwards and forwards, the boy had yet to say a single thing about himself. It was nearing probably their thirty sixth date, five months in, when Saruhiko finally took it upon himself to pick where they were going. It had always been up to Mikoto, and he was running low on places to choose from after exhausting the park, zoo, and local aquarium.

They had been down every avenue, gone to every good restaurant they could afford, and he was worried they would have to start retracing their steps, in fear of the boy getting bored. And yet Saruhiko seemed to enjoy everywhere they went, no matter where it was, though he never said so Mikoto stole glimpses of that rare beautiful smile when the other thought he wasn't looking. They didn't hold hands, none of that, and the kissing was light and nothing more, and Mikoto would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't craving more substantial physical contact. But self control was key, and if was to make what they had work he would have to prove it to the other male that he was different from other people. That Saruhiko was worth the wait.

Saruhiko called him at two in the morning on a Saturday night. Mikoto had been sound asleep when his phone buzzed him awake from its rattling place on his nightstand, and although he had been ready to give whoever was calling a piece of his mind, when he saw it was his 'boyfriend' he woke up.

"S' a bit late to be calling, are you alright?" He scratched at his head, wincing when his neck creaked as he massaged his scalp. He unconsciously smiled a bit at the sound of the others annoyed response. "Of course I'm fine, idiot, I can take care of myself. Look, I didn't know you were sleeping so I'll just hang up, no use if you're half asleep." The boy sounded a bit sad, though he was clearly trying to hide his disappointment, and that peaked Mikoto's interest even further. "Well I'm awake now so no use in hanging up, what did you call for?"

"..."

"Fushi-"

"There's a place I've been meaning to show you, but haven't had the opportunity. It's only available right now, a one time offer, so if you're too tired don't bother coming. It requires running and not being fucking obvious so if you want to come wake up and don't complain. Meet me in thirty minutes at the corner of 17th and 56th. Wear that ridiculous jacket of yours, it's going to get cold."

And then Saruhiko hung up on him.

He took a moment to blink himself awake, and then swung his legs over the side of his spare bed in Homra and got ready for whatever this mysterious place was that Saruhiko had wanted to show him. It wasn't far from Homra, maybe a ten minute's run, so he jogged to where his boyfriend wanted to meet him, only to find that he had beat him there. So he waited for fifteen minutes until a disgruntled Saruhiko made his way down the alley behind where he stood, catching him off guard. Saruhiko only nodded to him in the dim light of the street lamp before doubling back from where he had come, and Mikoto followed him down the brick alleyway without a word. They stopped at a chain-link doorway in the brick wall, leading to a dark stairwell that went down into darkness.

It was locked with a chain and Saruhiko fished a key from his customary blue jacket with a serious look on his face, unlocking the big brass lock with a click. He pulled open the door and motioned for Mikoto to go in before doing so himself and closing it behind him, locking it back with a resounding click. Mikoto paused at the head of the stairwell, not knowing if he should go down or not, and Saruhiko turned back and went down ahead of him, and he followed into the blackness. He was almost tempted to let his Aura out so they could see, but something told him to let Saruhiko make the decisions, as this had been his 'date' (or whatever it was) to begin with. Mikoto heard Saruhiko level out onto a platform and heard the sound of a doorknob and suddenly he was standing at the entrance way to an abandoned underground skate park.

Yellow lights hung from makeshift bars on the ceiling of the cavernous area, great sloping areas made up the concrete floor and upon the intersecting platform and columns were a collection of children scattered about. The sounds of young teens shouting and small children laughing echoed about, the sound of a baby crying coming from somewhere in the great room. There were sleeping bags scattered along the slopes, children in dirty clothing scrambling up them only to roll down and over unfortunate sleepers who awoke with shouts and yells. There were about fifty people loitering in that underground cavern, and Mikoto turned to Saruhiko in shock. He understood, without the other having to say anything.

This was where Saruhiko had grown up.

The boy had never said anything about growing up on the streets, Mikoto having always thought the boy had come from an abusive household or had been booted from the house at an early age. But here was a place filled with clearly homeless children, homeless children who had established a place for themselves. Saruhiko just stared ahead not saying anything, but his features were soft. A young boy in a red shirt and overalls, turned to look at them, and his face lit up like a light.

"Saru-kun's back!"

All the kids seemed to turn at once, and then they all began screaming in joy and rushing towards the doorway. Saruhiko grinned broadly and stepped out, letting gravity take him slowly down the ramp with his knees locked and into the swarm of oncoming kids. Mikoto just watched with a growing amused grin as all fifty or so children amassed onto the boy and seemed to drown him in a series of cries and laughs. He looked up from the mob of limbs and laughter to see a pair of girls around Saruhiko's age traversing the ramps to get to them. They looked to be twins, with black hair pulled to the sides in pigtails and they both wore the same yellow shirt and bell bottom bluejeans. They scrambled up the ramp to greet him and did so with award winning smiles of crooked teeth and honey eyes.

"You must be Mikoto-san! Saru-kun talks about you all the time!" The girl on the left spoke up, winking at her twin who just brushed her off and held out her hand for a handshake. "Sorry about that, we're happy to have you here. As you can tell, we don't get many adult visitors down here." Mikoto shook her hand, nodding absently as he watched with a growing smile of amusement as Saruhiko tried to claw his way from the mob of children only to be drown once more.

"My name is Yukiko and this is my sister Ko, I would tell you all their names but something tells me you two won't be staying for long." The girl on the left grinned with a blush, and Ko whacked up her upside the head. "Sorry about that, she's an idiot without shame."

The children eventually let Saruhiko get to his feet, and then he just stood there while the children tried and failed to take turns chattering their days to him. Mikoto watched silently at the smile on the boy's face, a smile of compassion and tenderness unlike those bright happy grins or small smiles of appreciation.

Soon enough Saruhiko untangled himself from the children and crawled back up the slope to stand next to Mikoto. The boy looked refreshed and relieved, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he's suddenly received eight hours of sleep. He waved goodbye and they ascended the stairs back up to the surface in a comfortable silence. They came out into the alley and just started walking aimlessly. The silence was beginning to tense, and Saruhiko prayed he wouldn't say what he thought he would, but of course life had always liked to throw curve balls at his face.

"Do you work as a prostitute to give them money?"

Saruhiko sucked in air through his lips sharply, stopping in his tracks and fisting his hands inside his sweater pockets angrily. "No. I don't. They all have their own jobs selling newspapers and stuff, and some of them are rotation kids who get booted in and out of foster homes. I'm a whore because it's what I'm good at." _It's what I know, _was the unspoken truth, and Mikoto turned to him with wide but sad eyes.

Saruhiko felt tears rise to his eyes in frustration, "Don't look at me like that! Like I'm wasting my life! You don't know how I feel and I don't understand why you keep thinking I'm someone I'm not."

Mikoto held the boy's face in his hands, searching glistening tear stained eyes for any hint of a lie but found none. He thumbed away the tears but more just followed. "How can you think that I'm worth something when I'm clearly not!?" Saruhiko whispered fiercely, throat closing with sobs.

Mikoto smiled sadly, "Did you know that I hate my position as a King? I never once wanted to be a King but instead was pressured into it. Being a King, at least for me, is very exhuasting, and very frightening. The Aura is eating at me constantly, looking for a gap it can squeeze into and destroy me. It's hard to stay awake when all my energy is being used trying to stay myself. But even when I sleep the Sword is there, hanging over me, and my hands are stained with blackened blood. I understand where you're coming from, these scars are nothing I haven't seen before. I've thought about it too, more than I should, more than is healthy, sometimes I wonder if I can just let go and give into the flames but then everyone around me would suffer for it. Why don't we make a promise to each other, I'll be here for you, I won't go anywhere, and you will stop selling yourself. You're lowering yourself when you don't have to, smothering the good I can see that you apparently can't. You're blinding yourself, so let me be your prescription."

Saruhiko bit the inside of his cheek, a laugh catching in his throat, and he reached up to put his hands on Mikoto's.

"That was a really corny line, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I do."

They suddenly met with lips and tongues, gripping one another like the world would end without the other. Saruhiko couldn't stop crying, so caught up in emotion and passion that he couldn't think about anything other than this man who seemed to care so much.

* * *

Wah, this took so long to write :D


	9. Chapter 8

Next chapter up at **130 reviews (anonymous reviews are totally cool, even if you just say 'update you fuck' or 'omg this is the worst fanfic ever!' honestly, I don't care what you say as long as you say SOMETHING)  
**

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"...What did you say?" Saruhiko looked like he had just been slapped, and perhaps that would have been better.

"...I think you should join the Blue Clan." Mikoto repeated, albeit at tad slower and all while staring into those shell shocked blue eyes.

It had been several months since that night that they had showed their true colors, and Mikoto had begun to realize something that made him rather sad. Saruhiko was wasting away in Homra, he was so bright and full of promise but he was wasting his intelligence and talents by fighting gang members for no real reason. So he'd spoken to Munakata Reisi, asked him if he would be interested in taking in Saruhiko as part of Scepter4, and the other had accepted happily. Of course, Saruhiko would be offended if he said that, well he looked pretty offended now.

Saruhiko was sitting on his lap on the bed, MIkoto leaning with his back against his windowsill and the boy straddling his lap with his chin on the red head's shoulder as the King read his book. However now Saruhiko had drawn back, fury and hurt in those sapphire gems. "I see." the boy spat, "You've gotten tired of me and just want to throw me away. Of course I wasn't good enough for you-Mr. perfect king!" Saruhiko moved back to get off his lap and surely run from the room but Mikoto snaked his arms around the boy's midsection and pulled him in tight with a sad chuckle.

"You always think so poorly of yourself, but that's not very different from myself so I can't really judge you. But no, I'm not 'throwing you away' and I definitely haven't gotten 'tired' of you. But honestly, Saruhiko, you're wasting your talents here. You don't have friends here besides Yata and I, and we both know how you feel about Yata giving you so little attention. You should join Scepter4, make something of that bright brain of yours and do some good for the world instead of trailing around and beating up thugs because the others are." Saruhiko pulled back slowly and Mikoto let him, but did not loosen his grip around his boyfriend's waist. Saruhiko stared at him hard with a frown on his face.

"You can't lie to someone who lies for a living. Why do you really want me to join Scepter 4, Mikoto?"

Mikoto would be lying if he said he was surprised that the boy had seen through him. He sighed heavily, rubbing small circles into the boy's lower back with his thumbs. "I just think that being here in this neighborhood might not be best for you, that you might be tempted to fall back into your old profession. And I know you deserve much better than that." Contrary to what he had thought the boy's reaction would be, the others eyes just soften and he let out a snort, leaning forward to knock his head against the other male's chin. Mikoto closed his eyes and breathed in deep the scent of Saruhiko's lavender shampoo. How he calmed at that scent now.

"It's just like you to worry so much about me," Saruhiko sighed, "but what about Misaki?" Mikoto stilled his thumbs on the boy's back and opened his eyes, "What about him?" Saruhiko moved his head to rest on Mikoto's chest, moving away those fragrant smelling locks from tickling against Mikoto's nose. "He's still my friend...but I'm angry at him for abandoning me..."

Mikoto sighed heavily through his nose, "As you should be, friends are like a garden-you have to tend to them or they'll wilt. He took you for granted, and you should feel hurt at that. Damn him for throwing aside such a beautiful person." Mikoto watched in fond amusement as the boy's ears turned bright red in embarrassment and he mumbled a small curse.

"Just do things the way you want, and it's not like we'll be far apart. Scepter4 live in a community dorm and you did tell me you were planning on moving out of that flat you two shared. We can meet anytime you want, I'll even cause trouble so the Blue Clan comes running." He felt Saruhiko's smile on the skin of his neck, and he smiled in return, reaching up to thread his fingers through soft tresses.

"Okay." Saruhiko whispered, tickling his collarbone with gentle puffs of air, "I'll go, but I'll end things with Misaki in my own way."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

Mikoto had not expected to find out that Saruhiko had ended things with Misaki through a violent prompt of abandoning Homra for power and the burning of the tattoo emblazoned on his flesh. Mikoto was angry, but only because the boy had hurt himself. He hadn't wanted that, but he was sure the boy would get treatment for the wound.

He fucking better.

* * *

Saruhiko immersed himself in Scepter4's utter _blue. _Mikoto had been right, unsurprisingly, everyone in Scepter4 was exactly what he enjoyed. It was organized, efficient, and professional. There was no sentimental attachments and needless chatter though he could feel the loyalty everyone had towards the Blue King. Reisi Munakata was not what he expected, a tea loving man who loved puzzles and slacked on his paperwork was not what expected in a King. But then again Mikoto was hardly a King poster child, so he guessed the shoe fit.

He had kept his promise for almost half a year, had quit his profession that night in the back alleys of Shizume with tears on his cheeks and Mikoto's tongue in his mouth. He had never felt loved before, and it was a feeling he found he had been craving desperately. Perhaps he had wanted to be fixed after all, but had no idea how to do so. Mikoto Suoh was without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to him, and he had a very long list of experiences.

Of course, this was not to say he was in love with the man, and vice versa, but he could see himself getting there. He cared for the other, wanted to be by him all the time, but at the same time he desperately wanted to keep their relationship a secret because he had never liked to share. If this was their special world of happiness and love, then it should belong to them and only them.

He regretted burning himself, as in hindsight it was so incredibly retarded of him. It fucking HURT, and he had done some quick maintenance on it once he had moved in his sparse belongings into Scepter4's dorms. It was his first day and so they allowed him to take his own time to set up his living space, which for him only took an hour or so.

He had very few belongings, none of them sentimental, he'd left all the games for Misaki and mostly took all his weapons and clothes and care products. The room was small but homey, a kind of space that might be claustrophobic to others but to him it was perfect because he had always liked the feeling of being enveloped in a tight space.

Mikoto's tight hugs were always the best, though.

...

One month had passed since he had joined Scepter4 and Saruhiko was going through Mikoto Suoh withdrawal. It had gotten so bad that every red thing he saw made him sigh uncharacteristically, his burst of activity that had garnered him an instant promotion to third rank had slowed to a daytime naps and sluggish work.

Eventually the Blue King looked up long enough from his puzzles in that traditional-Japanese office of his to realize what was going and gave the boy the freedom to scurry back to his boyfriend whenever he pleased to a reasonable degree, just as long as he picked up the slack. He immediately bolted from Scepter4's headquarters, not caring who saw, because he was like a man starved for the acceptance and soothing warmth that only Mikoto Suoh could give him.

And that's how the next year went, with Mikoto causing trouble and the Blue Clan going to fix it all and the Blue King turning a blind eye when Mikoto left suddenly during their fake fights to sneak a make out session in dark corners of public restrooms. Saruhiko was happy, happier than he had been at Homra because it turned out that absence did in fact make the heart grow fonder.

And then Totsuka Tatara was shot and it all fell apart.

* * *

I know it was a short chapter but I'm speed writing all these chapters during a project heavy week and omg I'm dying!


	10. Chapter 9

Totsuka's Revenge weeks are here! :C

Next chapter up at **140 reviews**

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When Totsuka drew his last breath, Mikoto had felt him go like a flickering candle. It had taken him a moment to process what had happened, and before he could draw a gasp his phone had rang and he answered it with numb fingers.

"I have some bad news Mikoto..."

He hung up the phone before Kusanagi could finish his sentence, and dropped the phone to floor with a careless clatter. Long strides and heaving breaths took him to the mantle in the living room of his sparse apartment. He rarely slept there, almost had no need for it, except it was where he kept the things that were sentimental to him. His mother's ashes, a journal of notes from high school, shelves upon shelves of photographs that Totsuka had taken. He stood at his mantle and stared into honey brown eyes and felt hollow.

He felt a chilling determination and a swallowing sorrow.

A part of him thought it was for the best, as he had always known it to be coming. At the very least, Totsuka died besides his friends, so at least he was not alone in death.

He knew what would come of this, what fate dictated him to do.

His only regret was that he was going to leave sad blue eyes alone in this hollow world.

Yes, that was his only regret.

* * *

For the next four days the Clan mourned and Mikoto distanced himself from all of them. Only Anna managed to break through his sorrow and clung to him at night as he fell asleep to nightmares.

Saruhiko had been on a business trip and wouldn't be back for another three days. He saw the boy had called his cellphone and lit the appliance on fire, burning it to less than ash. He didn't want to face his boyfriend, didn't want to tell him of what he was planning, though it was likely the boy had figured it out on his own. His duty would garner the best of him, and would take all he had left. He hadn't' really cared about his life until he realized Saruhiko's was dependent on it. Sure, his Clan all depended on him, but more in that they depended on the protection and sanctity of family he had provided, but Saruhiko was dependent on _him. _

Totuska had been his ball and chain, his reason for being a King was gone and now all that left was to dispose of loose strings. When Saruhiko came back into town Mikoto made his move immediately, storming into the hotel suite where an infamous gang was that had purchased the gun responsible for killing their friend. Downstairs the Blue Clan was waiting for them, and he was not surprised to not see Saruhiko amongst the men and woman clad in blue. He was probably outside in that van that monitored Weissman levels. Either that or not there at all, but no-he could feel the flicker of red that was distinctly Saruhiko's just outside the building.

He let himself to be taken into custody without a fuss, putting out his hands to be cuffed by glowing blue, not caring that most of his less perceptive clansmen were frantic behind him. Kusanagi knew what he was doing, Anna too, and though he knew they were sad and upset at the path he was walking, he knew they would be okay in the end.

After all, they lived in Homra.

And wasn't Homra a home for troubled souls?

* * *

His cell was nice, hard stone and no pillow, but he could sleep instantly anywhere, and quickly fell into a light nap. The Red Aura was back to trying to eat him alive, and with his resignation to his fate it was hungrier than usual. A part of him was worried that when he died it would consume his soul, like a cheesy cartoon devil, but the other half didn't believe in an afterlife so what did he care if he was used as an energy source in the end?

He dreamed of a decimated city, of burning blazes and blackened hands burned by flame, the air smelled of death and decay, and he heard Anna crying somewhere. _Yes_, he thought aloud in his dreamscape,_ I will die so this won't happen...this is for the best._ But then the scenery swelled and melted away to a series of endless brick back alleys and squeaking hotel beds wrought with mold and bodily fluids. Saruhiko drowning himself in carnal and subservient pleasures, soothing his brokenness with the rough hands of strangers and the cloying scent of sex and self hatred.

Mikoto's was forced to watch as Saruhiko was taken harshly in a dim hotel room, dark hair spread out over stained sheets and creamy skin drenched in sweat and other fluids. A hand snaked from the tangle of jerking flesh, reaching out to Mikoto with glassy eyes and bruised lips.

"Don't go!" the word sounded so feeble and scared from those purple and red lips slick with saliva and _other_.

Mikoto woke with start, jarring his head into the cement wall behind him, and the sight of the bars of his cell blurred as he winced in the aftershock of his blunder. When his eyesight cleared and his ears stopped ringing, he was met with the sight of Saruhiko standing in front of those bars with a dark face and eyes that could kill.

"So that's it then, not even a note? For someone not new to suicide you sure lack preparation." His words were icy but Mikoto didn't blame him. He sat up with creaking shoulders, his arms as stiff as the board they were entrapped in. Mikoto watched him with soft eyes, and wasn't surprised when Saruhiko unlocked his cell and slipped through, locking it behind him. "I shut off the cameras and everyone's out." Saruhiko whispered, "So please get out of here…go and do something else but not this…please not this…"

Mikoto remained silent as the boy straddled his hips and buried his face in red tresses. Mikoto could see over the boy's shoulder and took in the scent of fear and sadness. A hand came down and unlocked his cuffs, something that did surprise him, but Saruhiko shushed his unspoken question with a suffocating kiss.

He threaded his tongue back in a passionate kiss full of sorrow that tasted of the tears that were trailing down the boy's cheeks like an endless cascade of grief. He lifted his now free hands that were sore and bruised but he couldn't care less as he pulled the boy impossibly closer. This person understood his brokenness, his helplessness, this person cared more than anyone and needed him more than even Anna did. This person loved him for his faults and his shortcomings, loved him despite his clear abandonment in his upcoming death.

"Don't go," the boy whimpered, near to a sob as he drew back just a hair's breath, so reminiscent of the dream he had just witnessed.

"I can't," he whispered back, rubbing circles in the boy's lower back over that long coat of his, and his heart broke at the small wail that left the boy's lips before they collided once more in teeth and tongue.

"You promised."

"I know."

"That's so cruel."

"I know, you don't deserve this."

"…"

"Don't you dare break your promise, you're better than that."

"A bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I know."

"…"

"…"

Saruhiko sobbed into their sad kisses and Mikoto just responded in the only way he knew how, he tried to be kind even though he was doing this boy who loved him such a cruelty he did not deserve. They had never said they loved each other out loud, but it was clear in the taste of his tears and the pitch of his cries that this boy loved him more than anyone had ever loved Mikoto.

Mikoto hoped he could say the same and it would ring true for this boy, because Mikoto had never liked to share.

* * *

I'm shitty and I know it :)


	11. Chapter 10

Next chapter up at **150 reviews**

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The morning of Mikoto's jail break, Saruhiko was waiting at the man's apartment for him. He waited several hours until the man arrived like he had told him to, having gotten inside himself with the spare key he had been given.

Mikoto walked into his apartment to see the boy sitting patiently on his sofa, dressed in his Scepter4 uniform but had forgone his long jacket and his boots by the front door, lounging in black socks and those special blue trousers and white dress shirt. The sun filtered in through the window like the stripes of a prison uniform or an old crime drama, stripes across the boy's face in patches of light. Dull sapphire eyes framed in black lenses locked with tired amber eyes and nothing was said. Mikoto strolled over to the couch and scooped up the boy without protest in a bridal carry, Saruhiko twisting his fingers instinctively into fur trimmed leather.

He carried him into his bedroom and gently laid him onto the bed, staring into quivering blue eyes wet with tears. Mikoto let the boy slip the jacket off him and he brushed it off the bed and onto the floor without ever letting his eyes waver from the others. Gently Mikoto leaned in and captured the silently crying boy's lips, carding his fingers through the boy's silken hair. Tongues dancing in each others mouths, massaging one another with all the love they could muster. It was growing heated, when he pulled away Saruhiko marveled at the blush along Mikoto's usually pale cheeks, and knew he must look the same.

He slid the shirt off his older boyfriend, Mikoto's necklace already having been removed. Mikoto worked on the buttons of Saruhiko's dress shirt, pulling apart the sides to reveal a pale and toned chest. They reconnected for a heated kiss once more, Mikoto's large, rough, warm hands moving along Saruhiko's sides and making him shiver. They had all the time in the world for foreplay, but Saruhiko knew that neither of them wanted to waste any time in connecting their souls that had been apart for too long.

Mikoto knew this wold be worth the wait, to make love to this boy because he truly love him, not only because he felt a physical attraction. Saruhiko's pants were tugged off, underwear following, and Mikoto was quick to match him in state of undress. They took a moment to stare at each other, full of love and lust and Saruhiko had yet to stop crying. Mikoto put a hand on his soon to be lover's cheek, "Are you sure?" he whispered, and Saruhiko just smiled gently, curling his hand over the others.

"This is the only time I've ever been sure I've wanted this."

They moved as one person, Saruhiko crying into Mikoto's shoulder in ecstasy and despair, the male deep within him as only lovers could be. Nails scratched at his back, thighs trembling as they were locked tightly around his waist, and Mikoto could feel tears and hot pants on his neck. He cradled the boy in his arms as he made love to him, trying to show this precious person that he was the most important person in the world to him.

When it all came to a close, climaxing in a turbulent mix of cries and tears, Saruhiko curled into his lover's warmth and was pulled in close.

* * *

Mikoto slumped onto his old friend, blade pierced through his heart and shattered ribcage, his vision slipping and his breathing labourous. Although his body was failing him, his mind was whizzing through all the good things in his life: his mother, Kusanagi, Totsuka, Homra, Anna, _Saruhiko_. He could only picture the boy's face as he had held him close in the aftermath of their love making, eyes wet with tears but his smile brighter than he had ever seen. He let that image take him awake, his voice a struggled whisper.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise to you, Saruhiko. Please don't do the same."

Mikoto fell into the void and, for all intents and purposes, Saruhiko did too.

As red fireflies of light lifted, Saruhiko stared up at them as the warmth left him cold and hollow. No one in Scepter4 or Homra knew of his relationship with the Red King, their _true _relationship, the only ones who knew were either killed or doing the killing. No tears came, but he was sure that was because he didn't feel anything anymore, his body and heart numb like everyone's fingers in the snowy world of Shizume.

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Next chapter is the final chapter and is basically the epilogue. :D


	12. Epilogue

The Epilogue, folks :(

Thank you all for going of this journey with me and I hope I managed to bring a few of you to the MikoSaru side (there are so very few of us it really is a shame :C...)

* * *

Saruhiko slumped into the snowy ground over which his lover's body was buried six feet beneath. He pulled that ridiculous leather fur trimmed coat tight to him, inhaling the fading scent of a man long dead, of a warmth that was no longer present in the worn fabric. It had been seven days, seven days was all he could manage in Mikoto's absence. He had watched stragglers of Homra, the kids who signed up for the hell of it, watched them disappear like the smoke they could once wield, but was content in the core that had remained strong. Anna was in good hands, Kamamoto was her guardian and Yata hung around all the time. Saruhiko no longer fought with the ginger, even though the other gave chase halfheartedly-always stopping in his tracts when he saw the dead look in Saruhiko's once gem-like eyes.

Saruhiko, despite wanting comfort and craving bodily warmth with all his shattered soul, steered far away from his once casual place of business he had quite years ago.

He would keep his promise, even if it killed him...

In the end, it had.

He knew himself, almost as well as Mikoto did, and knew he would fall back into that self-deprecating cycle soon enough.

So he decided to take himself out of the equation entirely.

If his lover had committed suicide, why couldn't he?

Growing up on the streets it was easy to figure out the best sellers of poison, both in a liquid and powdered form, and payed in cash instead of with his body for the vial of quick and easy death. He injected himself on the way to the graveyard, throwing away the bottle and syringe in the trash and holding the familiar coat close to his body. He knew Mikoto would be livid at him, but there was no other option if he wanted to keep his promise to his lover and by _God _did he want to prove that he could. Even if Mikoto wouldn't be there to pat his head and kiss his lips in praise, he would keep his promise no matter what. Besides, it wasn't like he was afraid of dying, having wanted it's embrace most of his life.

In the snow he felt warm with the poison in his veins, and he felt himself begin to feel overwhelmingly sleepy. He let his eyes slide shut, and filled his head with thoughts of Mikoto, a smile spreading across his face as he thought of all the gentle moments of love and acceptance he had felt in those strong warm arms that had never once wanted to harm him.

When he slipped in unconsciousness, he could swear he heard Mikoto's rumbling laugh, and his mind stretched out for it.

His heart stopped, but then again it had been dead for seven days.

* * *

Saruhiko woke up in Mikoto's bedroom in his apartment, and his first thoughts were of utter confusion.

He remembered dying, he remembered the feel of the needle and the burn of the poison as it entered his veins.

He had definitely died.

So why...?

He felt a warm weight next to him, and hot tears blurred his vision as familiar arms wrapped around his bare body and pulled him close.

"Okaerinasai."

"T-Tadaima!"

**The End**

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Okaerinasai- Welcome home

Tadaima- I'm home


End file.
